


No Place like Home

by coldflashwavebaby



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014), Tin Man (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wizard of Oz Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Mind Control, Possession, Psychological Trauma, Temporary Character Death, Tin Man - Freeform, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-06-27 05:49:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15679266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldflashwavebaby/pseuds/coldflashwavebaby
Summary: Sara Lance always dreamed of leaving Kansas, of visiting the world beyond cornfields and her father's stories about Mill Town and the Old Road.Then, the tornado came, and everything she thought she knew changed...





	1. Before the Storm

**Chapter One- The Calm Before the Storm**

 

Kansas was a dreary place, full of even drearier people. Sara Lance grew up there her entire life, on a small farm run by her, her father Quentin, and her mother Dinah. They had a small farmhouse, which she lived in the loft-like attic of. Her parents believed, from a young age, in giving her all the space she needed to grow and flourish.

Now, at twenty-nine years old, her room that was once full of stuffed animals and dollhouses was wallpapered with various drawings of her fantastical dreams and the stories her father told. Two spinning dolls were pasted over her bed, while others featured the Old Road, a common feature of her father’s tales.

_ “All of life’s answers are found along the Old Road.” _ Her dad’s motto.

Sara knew that there wasn’t much for her in Kansas. She was a waitress at a small, roadside diner—not even a  _ good one _ , to be honest. She didn’t have friends, didn’t have a boyfriend or girlfriend. All she had were her parents, her motorcycle, and a dream of attending art school far, far away.

She stared down at her latest sketch—a pair of beautiful, lavender eyes.  _ A storm is coming _ , the woman with the eyes had warned. She’d had the dream before. It always started the same: she was walking through a cave. There was a bear, roaring. She could hear two little girls singing— _ Two little princesses, dancing in a row//spinning fast and freely on their little toes/where the light will take you/there's only one way to know/two little princesses dancing in a row.  _ The dolls would appear, spinning faster and faster.

This time, though, it all faded. That pair of lavender eyes trapped Sara in their gaze as a woman showed up. She’d never appeared before, but Sara felt safe all of a sudden. The woman was sad, scared. Sara didn’t know who she was, but she knew that the woman had lost something precious. Then, those ominous words echoed through her head— _ A storm is coming. A storm is coming. _

She lived in Kansas. There was  _ always  _ a storm coming. But, for some reason, the woman’s warnings scared her beyond belief. She would wake up in a cold sweat with only her sketchbook and charcoal as a comfort.

She sighed, looking out the window to see her father, fighting with the weather vane.  _ Speaking of storms… _

Sara tucked her drawing away in the big of her overalls and headed outside, looking every bit the Kansas girl she was—hair braided in pigtails, overalls over a plaid shirt, and a pair of old sneakers falling apart at the soles.

She crossed the wheat field with a grin. “Having troubles, Dad?”

Quentin raised his head and gave a small wave. “Nah, princess. I think I got it. This damn thing just doesn’t want to cooperate.”

She walked to his side anyway, shaking her head as her dad continued to complain. “The spinner in Milltown was nowhere near as complicated as this… _ thing. _ ” 

Ah, Milltown. Her mother and father’s mysterious hometown. Where everything worked better, everyone was happier, and the Old Road was within walking distance. Sara had never been, but they always talked about taking her there someday.

“Well, everything’s better in Milltown, right Daddy-o?” she joked, falling down to her knees to help. Quentin turned to her with a loving smile. Sometimes, her dad made her feel like the most important girl in the world, like nothing in his life mattered beyond her.

“Not everything. You weren’t in Milltown.”

Things like that. She smiled and picked up a screwdriver. Her dad accepted it and went back to work.

“I heard you get up last night,” he said after a while of companionable silence. “That creepy cave dream bugging you again?”

Sara nodded. “It was a little different this time. There was a woman there with gorgeous lavender eyes, talking to me.”

Quentin raised an eyebrow. “Lavender eyes?”

“Yeah, I drew her.” She pulled out the picture and handed it to her dad. He unfolded the picture and snorted.

 

“What kind of dreams are you having where a beautiful woman like this shows up?” he joked. Sara elbowed him in the side.

“It’s not like that, Dad. I just…I feel a connection to her. Like, I know her somewhere.”

Quentin handed her back the picture. “Maybe you saw her on TV or something?”

“Maybe.” That would make sense. How many people had lavender eyes, after all? “She kept telling me about a storm.”

“A storm?”

“Yeah, ‘a storm is coming’, over and over again.”

Her father tensed. “What storm? What does that mean?”

Sara chuckled. “I don’t know. Next time, I’ll make sure to ask, once I get past the bear and creepy, singing children.”

Quentin seemed like he was going to say something else, but the vane kicked back on again about that time, and the pair let out a cheer. As they packed up her dad’s toolbox and headed back to the house, Sara could feel like there was something her dad wanted to talk about. Once they got to the porch and saw her mom sitting in the rocking chair, she knew she was in trouble for  _ something _ .

“Sara,” Dinah said in that stern way she had, “did Officer Drake give you another ticket?”

Shit. She was hoping they weren’t going to find out about that. She looked to her dad, who gave a quick, apologetic shrug.

“Do you know that you’re going to have to face a judge for this?” her mother continued. “You could go to  _ jail _ , Sara!”

“I’m not going to jail, Mom!” Sara argued. “Officer Drake just likes being a hard ass. She won’t throw me in jail.”

“She’s talking about impounding your bike,” her father finally spoke up.

Sara cleared her throat. “She won’t be able to if I’m not here with it…”

Her parents shared a look, one that Sara didn’t understand, but knew didn’t mean anything good. “So, this is how you’re telling us that you’re thinking of leaving?” Dinah said.

“I mean, we all knew I wasn’t going to stay here forever, right?” Sara replied. “C’mon…this town just isn’t a good fit for me. The people here are bigoted or annoying, and I’m a waitress. Did you think I was going to just stick with that for the rest of my life? I want to do something with my life.”

“And you can’t do that here?”

“No! And I don’t  _ want  _ to. This town…this isn’t home to me. I just…I feel like there’s something greater for me outside of Kansas. I don’t belong here…I never have.” She stormed in the house and up to her room in the most teenager way possible. She knew that her parents loved her and wanted to protect her, but that wasn’t who she was. She wanted to go out, have adventures, fall in love, get in trouble. She wanted to live her life, and, if her parents had their way, she would never leave the farm.

A few minutes later, she could hear her parents coming inside, immersed in a conversation she was positive they didn’t know she could hear.

“Since we came here, it has been our mission to care for Sara and be the best parents we possibly could,” her mother said. There was a clatter of pots and pans as she moved around the kitchen to make dinner.

“I know that, sweetheart,” her father sighed. “I know you worry, but we’re succeeding in that. We can’t keep her here like a prisoner, though. Sara is a young woman. Dinah, she had The Dream.”

His voice dropped to a whisper, and Sara had to lean in close to the door to hear what was being said. She only caught bits and pieces, but she could hear ‘lavender eyes’ and ‘home’. Were her dreams from Milltown? But she’d never been there before. What did their home have to do with the lavender-eyed woman, and why hadn’t her father mentioned it before?

The sound of heavy boots moved towards the stairs, and Sara ran for her bed. She barely jumped into it in time before her father poked his head in.

“Hey, princess,” he greeted, a strained smile on his face. She hummed in greeting. “You know your mom loves you, right?”

“I know. I just don’t feel like she understands me.” God, she sounded like one of those whiny teenagers— _ you don’t understand me, old people!  _ It was true, though. Sometimes, it was like her mom didn’t even know her.

Quentin nodded, strolling slowly around the room to look at her drawings. He stopped at a picture of a small, stone podium thing that said  _ Central City _ on the side. Sara didn’t know why that appeared in one of her dreams, but it stuck with her. “You draw beautiful, baby. One day, you’re gonna have the world in the palm of your hands. I remember, back in Milltown…”

“Enough about Milltown, please!” she groaned. “I get it—you had this perfect childhood in the perfect small town. Now, you’re just bumming me out.”

Quentin widened his eyes. “I was just saying that your drawings remind me of home.” He pointed to one beside her bed—a watercolor of a castle on a lake, nestled in a rich, green valley. “Home is where the heart is, y’know.”

“I can’t stay here, Dad. I just can’t.”

“I know.” Quentin nodded. “Your mom knows, too, which is why she’s fighting it. We’re both so scared for you, baby girl. There’s so much you don’t know, so much we haven’t told you yet.”

Sara leaned forward. “Like what? What is so important that the two of you feel the need to whisper about it when I’m not in the room?”

A sad smile grew on his lips. “Don’t make me tell you before you’re ready, sweetheart.”

“Tell me  _ what?” _

Quentin swallowed hard. “Do you remember the one about the Daughter of Light, who searched long and hard for her home…”

“…frozen in time in a sea of ice. Yes, I remember, but this is reality, Dad. I’m not a little girl anymore. I need you two to trust me.”

“We do trust you, princess,” Quentin sighed. “It’s just…we’ve kept things from you. Things you might be better off not knowing. But, that’s not our place to decide anymore. So, I’ll make you a deal.” He took her by the hand and looked her in the eye. “Tomorrow morning, at breakfast, we’re all going to sit at the table and your mom and I will tell you everything.”

Sara raised an eyebrow. “Everything?”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead.  _ “Everything.”  _

 

But that breakfast between them would never happen, because, in a distant and magical land, an evil was setting its sight on Kansas.

 

\-------

 

General Hunter Zolomon strode through the halls of the Black Tower towards the throne room. The soldiers lingering outside the doors stood at attention as he approached, except for Killer Frost and Deathstorm. The former raised an eyebrow. 

 

“Our search teams failed and were brought down by rebels in the north,” she reported with a smirk. “Seems like your plan wasn’t all that genius, Hunter.”

 

He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. “She won’t be happy about that.”

 

“She never is,” Deathstorm pointed out. 

 

He had to agree. When he first joined the evil witch, he was promised power and the chance to kill all who stood in their way. What he hadn’t realized was that she was just as willing to kill anyone who displeased her as she was to swat an annoying bug away. 

 

When he stepped inside, Killer Frost and Deathstorm at his side, a calm voice whispered across the room. “You made me a promise, General Zolomon.”

 

That voice always sent a shudder down his spine. It sounded calm, but there was a rage hidden beneath it.

 

He swallowed hard. “There were difficulties in the mission, my lady. Resistance spies stopped us from retrieving the item.”

 

The witch stood above them on her platform, silhouetted against the light green windows of the throne room. There was pure power in her presence--her stance, her voice, the raise of her chin. Were he a stupid man, Zolomon would’ve fallen in love with her. She wasn’t the kind of woman you loved, though--she was the kind you followed, the kind you didn’t fail.

 

It pained him to disappoint her. 

 

“We...we  _ will  _ find it, my lady. We just need more tim--”

 

She held up a hand, and he fell silent. He wondered if this was the moment she realized that he was more of a hindrance than a help. He wondered if this would be his last moments. 

 

“There’s no more time, Hunter,” she said, her voice still eerily calm. “I need that emerald. In seven days, the double eclipse will darken the skies. If the stone isn’t in my hand then, all of my plans, all of my hard work...it will be gone. Useless.” 

 

A loud scream echoed through the room. Hunter, Deathstorm, and Frost all ducked and covered their ears as the witch sent her spell into one of the other windows in the room. It shattered instantly. 

 

Zolomon crawled forward on his knees. “We’ll have the emerald by then. I swear to you.”

 

The scream stopped. The witch stepped down the stairs, stopping in front of him. She raised his chin with her foot so he could stare into her striking, green eyes. They were empty of any empathy, any mercy. He was sure she was going to end him right then until her head jerked to the side. 

 

“What?” she whispered almost silently, dropping her foot. It was like he and the others were no longer in the room. Sometimes, that happened--something would draw the witch’s attention away, and some new development would come to her. She whispered unintelligibly for a few seconds, before striding away towards the doors. 

 

“I need to see Breacher,” she declared. Killer Frost and Deathstorm fell into step behind her, and Zolomon pulled himself off the floor to hurry behind.

Breacher was a special prisoner of theirs. He was a Vibe--a being who would read others just by touch. Some of the more sensitive ones could even read lingering feelings on places and objects, displaying them for others when they wanted. 

 

Breacher wasn’t near that powerful. He and his daughter, Cynthia, were the last of their village. The witch had hunted them to near extinction, enslaving them to use their abilities of sight to her advantage. Cynthia was in their dungeon as well, but she wasn’t much powerful than Breacher. She was younger, though, and would take Breacher’s place once their torture became too much on them. 

 

Zolomon followed the witch down to the labs a few floors below the throne room. It was a small room, used only for taking advantage of Vibe powers. Breacher was already sitting in his chair, arms strapped down, when they walked inside. Thawne, the witch’s scientist, was attaching the conduits to Breacher’s head so that they could see his visions in the strange tank of green liquid Thawne said was necessary for them to use. 

 

Whatever, he was no scientist. All he needed was to be pointed in the direction of a new mission so that he could get back in the witch’s good graces. 

 

She glided to Breacher’s side and leaned in close. “Peer into the future,” she ordered. “Tell me if there’s anything that will stand in the way of my plans.”

 

Breacher was weak and injured, but he still leveled her with a glare. “Go to hell, bitch.”

 

She nodded. “Okay. If that’s your answer…” she turned to Frost. “Grab his daughter and drag her in here instead. It might take some encouragement, but I’m sure we can convince her to be more reasonable.”

 

She motioned to Thawne, who had an electro-rod in his hand. Breacher’s eyes widened with fear. “No...not Cynthia, please...I’ll do it…just don’t hurt her.”

 

The witch grinned. “I thought you’d see it my way...now, what do you see?”

 

He closed his eyes, and the tank lit up bright. Zolomon’s armies appeared in the water. 

 

“You will continue to conquer, to destroy all in your way…”

 

“The emerald?” the witch asked. “Will I get it in time?”

 

Breacher nodded, and a green stone took the army’s place. “You will. You will have it in your hand in the eclipse, but…”

 

The image disappeared, and the witch grabbed Breacher by his shoulders, her nails biting into his flesh. “But what?”

 

“There’s something…” his eyes flew open. “A light in the dark...from the  _ other  _ side.”

 

A house appeared. It was nothing Zolomon hadn’t seen a million times--a rundown, farmhouse in the center of a wheat field. But something had unnerved the witch. There was something she didn’t understand standing in the way of her goals. Before she even turned to him, Zolomon knew that he was about to have some fun. 

 

“General, awaken a travel storm,” she ordered, sending him a wink. “I want you to go with a small company to the other side, and snuff out that light and any who protect it.”

 

He bowed low to her. This would be fun. 

 

\-------

 

The witching hour was greeted by a strong gale moving in from the south. Sara’s shutters banged, the farm cat yowled, and the rusty wind vane squeaked as it was nearly blown off its axis. 

 

Sara slept restlessly, thoughts of Milltown, the Old Road, the Daughter of Light and a sea frozen in time swimming through her head. She visited the cave once again, only now, there was more. With the bear came a dropped basket of apples. The song and dolls were gone, replaced by a gazebo on the edge of a crystal lake. A woman swung on the swing underneath it, holding a small girl in her arms while another young girl played by the banks of the water. Then, the lavender-eyed woman appeared again, this time urgently. 

 

_ “A storm is coming _ ,” she warned.  _ “A storm is coming. Run, Sara!” _

 

Then, Sara was falling. The floor of the cave gave out and she free-fell into darkness. 

 

When she jerked awake in bed, she knew something was wrong. The wind was different. The animals were crying out. The hair on her arms stood on end. That’s when she heard it--a roar like a locomotive. 

 

A tornado was coming. 

 

There was a loud crash downstairs, like something knocking in the front door. Her first thought was that a storm had blown a tree or something into the house. She ran for the stairs, thinking only of her parents watching TV in the den. There was a thump and a cry of pain when she made it to the bottom, and she turned the corner to see her dad doubled over on the ground and nursing a bloody nose.

 

“Dad!” she shouted, running to him. “Dad, are you okay?”

 

HIs eyes widened. “No...no go back, Sara! Don’t!”

 

Thick arms wrapped around Sara’s neck and waist, pulling her against a man’s chest. All of Sara’s martial arts lessons she took as a kid kicked in, and she threw the man over her shoulder. Another man came running into the den, holding a gun to her mom’s head, but Sara delivered a high kick to his head, knocking him back enough to drag her mom away. Three more men blocked the way to the front door, so Dinah took Sara’s hand and dragged her back towards the stairs. 

 

“Dad, come on!” Sara urged. A shot rang out, and Quentin howled in pain, but he limped right behind them, the denim over his calf darkening. Once they were in Sara’s room, Quentin slammed the door shut and locked it, while Dinah pushed a bookcase in front of it. 

 

“Who are those guys?” Sara asked. “What do they want?”

 

“Longcoats,” Quentin answered quickly. He turned to Dinah. “This wasn’t what we were told.”

 

“Things have changed. We have to get her there  _ now. _ ”

 

Sara frowned. “Get me where? Where are we going and what the  _ hell  _ is happening?”

 

“No time to explain, princess,” her father said as he took her by the hand and dragged her towards the window. They threw it open and pushed her through. The wind was wild and strong, forcing Sara to dig her nails into the roof shingles to stay in one place. The tornado was beside their house now, rumbling and roaring so loud, Sara could barely hear her parents right beside her on the roof. 

 

“What?” She had to have misheard them, because it sounded like they were telling her to  _ jump into the tornado. _

 

“You have to jump!” Dinah shouted louder. And, they’d officially lost their minds.

 

“You have to go, Sara!” Quentin agreed. “It’s time!”

 

Her parents were nuts. They really wanted her to jump into a tornado.

 

“ _ Why? _ ”

 

“The Longcoats are after you!” her father shouted. “They’ll kill you if they catch you!”

 

“The tornado will kill me if I jump inside!”

 

Dinah and Quentin shared a look. “I’m sorry, baby girl,” Quentin sighed. Without another word, he pushed Sara off the roof and into vortex, before taking Dinah’s hand and jumping in after her.


	2. On the Other Side

Zolomon led the others to the witch’s personal chambers, his stomach twisting with worry. He didn’t have the light. He didn’t even really know what the light was. What he did know was that this was his second failed mission in a row, and the witch would not be pleased. 

 

Malcolm Merlyn, the witch’s adviser, held up a hand as they approached. Before Zolomon could ask why, Merlyn put a finger to his lips and pointed into the room. The witch had her back to the open doorway, but Zolomon could hear the whispers. 

 

“Stop worrying,” she said. “Of course the people will be taken care of. I never said you did...no, you didn’t...don’t say that.” 

 

Zolomon swallowed. Maybe he would get lucky, and he would have to leave and come back. But just as he thought it, Merlyn lowered his hand. 

 

He smirked. “She’s ready for you. Hope you have better news than last time.” 

 

Zolomon hated Merlyn. He was so smug, believing he was irreplaceable. He was right in thinking he was more so than Zolomon. There had been two people before him that the witch killed without a second thought. He had no doubt she would do the same to him on a whim. 

 

He entered, flanked by his lieutenants. 

 

The witch rose, her attention now on him. “Report.”

 

Zolomon bowed quickly. “My lady, we believe we found the source of the light. It was a girl...she was young, not even thirty annuals.”

 

The witch raised an eyebrow. “A girl? Bring her to me.”

 

Zolomon resisted the urge to tremble. “There was a problem…”

 

“Last time, it was ‘difficulties’. This time, it’s a problem. Tell me, general, why do you  _ insist _ on making such simple tasks grating? What ‘problem’?”

 

“She...escaped in the storm, along with her parents.” 

 

He could tell the moment he said the wrong thing. The witch’s eyes narrowed, her head tilted, and she took a threatening stride forward that nearly had Zolomon stumbling back. 

 

“Your storm?” she asked. “You’re saying that she’s here? An othersider?”

 

“I’m...I’m sorry, my lady.”

 

Then, the most terrifying thing happened--the witch’s anger melted, replaced by a small smile and understanding eyes. She stepped forward, so she was in Zolomon’s space, and leaned forward towards his ear. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I know you did your best.”

 

That wasn’t the end. He knew it wasn’t. And, not half a second later, his worst fears were realized. Instead of a calming whisper, a high pitched squeal echoed in his ear, getting louder and louder until he was sure that his brain was melting. 

 

Then, Hunter Zolomon was dead. 

 

Killer Frost and Deathstorm looked on with terror as the general’s corpse crumbled to the floor. The witch sighed, like she was more inconvenienced than anything, and looked to Frost. “Good news--you’ve been promoted. If this girl is here in Star, I want you to find her and bring her to me.”

 

Killer Frost gave a quick nod and hurried out of the room, her husband on her heels. Neither wanted to suffer Hunter’s fate, as so many others had. 

 

\----------

Everything for Sara was a blur. She just knew that she had a concussion. The tornado spat her out a few minutes after she was pushed inside, knocking her out cold the second she landed. The next time she opened her eyes, she was in a forest of tall, skinny trees, with a morning sun rising above her. 

 

She blinked once. Twice. Where the hell was she? There was only ten percent of the entire state of Kansas with forests. How could that tornado have carried her so far without killing her?

 

She shot up. Around her were random pieces of the farmhouse, scattered through the forest floor. “Mom?” she shouted, pushing to her feet. “Dad?”

 

She dusted herself off and turned, freezing when she finally caught sight of the sun. Or, should she say,  _ suns _ . There were two of them in the sky, shining brightly over a land that was most  _ definitely  _ not Kansas. 

 

Where the hell was she? Was her concussion worse than she thought? She spun around, taking in the clearing around her. She didn’t even know which direction to go in to find her parents, or where they could be. What if they were still at the house? What if she’d just imagined them jumping in after her? What if those Longcoats--?

 

A rustling behind her silenced her thoughts. She wasn’t alone. She turned, then turned again, searching the clearing for some sign of life.

 

“Hello?” she called out. “Is anyone there? I think I need help.”

 

_ “Beware…” _ she heard behind her. She grabbed a stick off the ground and rounded on…nothing. 

 

Sara frowned. “What the…?”

 

Then, there were footfalls behind her. She expected Longcoats and soldiers, but instead was faced with...a pair of Oompa Loompas? The people were tiny, their faces painted in bright blues and reds and golds, wielding shields and spears. They pointed their weapons at her threateningly. 

 

“You’re joking.”

 

She turned away, only to be faced with  _ more  _ colorful, tiny people. “Watchful,” one of them warned the other. “Be watchful. I like not the look of her.”

 

One of them stepped forward, arm outstretched to touch her, but Sara swatted the hand away. “Hey! Keep your paws to yourself!”

The creature hissed and raised his weapon again. 

 

“Look not in her eyes!” Another said. “She may bewitch us all.”

 

A red-faced one with a peacock tail attached to his back acknowledged her. “Who are you?”

 

“Sara Lance. Who are you?”

 

“Red Katt. We are the Resistance Fighters of the Eastern Guild.”

 

Sara furrowed her brow. “The what of the what?”

 

“Speak not of who we be!” a blue one hissed. “We know nothing of her trickery. She could be a witch.”

 

“Excuse me!” Sara announced. She was already tired of this entire conversation. “I was carried away by a tornado, and my parents are missing. I have no trickery! I don’t even know where I am!” 

 

Red Katt sneered. “Those without magic do not just fall from the sky.”

 

“Mobats fall from the sky,” a gold-faced one suggested. 

 

“Nah, mobats have wings,” the blue one corrected. 

 

“Wings or not, she’s a spy!” the other exclaimed. “A spy from the sky!”

 

Sara rolled her eyes. “I’m not a spy. I’m not even  _ from  _ here. I’m from  _ KANSAS! _ ”

 

“Exactly what a spy would say,” Red Katt said, raising his spear again. The others followed, and Sara found herself facing off four spears with a stick. She took a step back, only to have her feet swept out from under her. 

 

Sara screamed as she was pulled up in the air, trapped in a snare net. 

 

They dragged her over the ground and into a village of treehouses high above the forest floor, finally throwing her inside a wicker birdcage dangling high over the ground. 

 

Red Katt narrowed his eyes. “So...the Siren Witch. Will she attack from the east?”

 

Sara frowned. “The what?”

 

The blue one rolled his eyes. “The witch! The one you spy for. Where will she attack from?”

 

Sara groaned and fell to the bottom of the cage, her legs crossed. “For the last time--I’m not a spy, I don’t know who this Siren is, and I AM LOOKING FOR MY PARENTS SO I CAN GO  _ HOME.”  _

 

Red Katt and Blue shared a look. “Maybe,” the former suggested, “she’s telling the truth, and she’s just a girl.”

 

_ Finally.  _ “Yes! That’s me!” Sara exclaimed. “Normal girl. I’m not even a good waitress.”

 

He nodded. “The witch and her forces have been raiding nearby villages, searching for the stone.”

 

He paused like he expected Sara to say something.

 

“Are we next on her list or not, spy?”

 

Sara rolled her eyes. This was just getting boring. “Look, Oompa Loompa, I don’t know who this witch bitch is or what she’s after, but if you treat all of your guests like this,” she motioned to the cage around her, “it’s no wonder you have enemies.”

 

“Yeah!”

 

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the voice inside the cage. She looked up, only to see a young man, probably around her age, tied by the waist to the rails above her head, smiling. She frowned, but the sound of crinkling paper drew her attention back to her interrogators.

 

They were holding a sketch she made of her parents, one that she’d been keeping in her pocket. It must have fallen out in the pocket of her overalls when she was thrown out of the tornado. 

 

“These two,” Red Katt announced, “were spotted on the old brick road, heading for Central City, being pursued by Longcoats.”

 

“Or working with them,” Blue suggested. 

 

“You saw my parents?” she asked, but they weren’t listening to her anymore. 

 

“It seems like we’ll have to use more persuasive methods to get this one to talk.” Blue grinned. “The  _ Flayer _ .”

 

Red Katt returned his smile. “Oh yes. Prepare the blades. She will tell us the truth soon enough.”

 

He crumbled her sketch and threw it off the walkway, before the pair strode away. Sara sighed. “You’re all dicks!” 

 

They didn’t come back, though, so she was left alone. Well, not alone. She looked back up at the man tied to the cage. He gave a small wave. “Hi there.”

 

She rose to her feet, taking him in properly. He was adorable--big, hazel eyes; chestnut brown hair that was sticking up, though there was a thick part down the center; he wore a bright red coat; and there was a twinge of mischief in his eye, overshadowed by the genuine brightness he exhumed. 

 

“What are you doing…?”

 

“Up here?” The young man smiled. “Those little demons thought it’d be hilarious to tie me up here. But, um…” He nodded down to the rope around his waist. “Maybe you can…?”

 

Sara took a step forward to help him but paused. She didn’t know this guy. He could be anyone. Hell, he could be one of those people that attacked her and her parents. She really looked at him—the wide eyes, bright smile, easy posture. He didn’t really seem like a threat.

 

The guy sighed. “Please let me down? My toes are falling asleep, and the longer you’re up here, the further away your parents are getting from Central City. I know the way there.”

 

That got her attention. “You can lead me to Central City and to my parents?”

 

The guy bit his lip. “I mean, yeah. It’s Central City—it’s  _ central _ . Everyone here knows how to find it and, of the people you’ve met since you got here, I’m the only one who hasn’t tried to kill you or lock you up. A little trust goes a long way.”

 

She nodded along with that logic. The kid seemed nice, trustworthy. His logic made sense, even though there was something a bit off about him. Still, this was a weird place, and Sara needed all the help she could get.

 

“Fine,” she agreed. “I help you down, you help me to Central City. Everyone wins.”

 

“Everyone wins.”

 

They both exchanged understanding looks before Sara reached up to release the rope holding him. He fell to the floor, which is when Sara noticed his zipper. The huge one on his head that she thought was the part in his hair. 

 

“What the hell!”

 

The guy startled. “What? What’s wrong?”

 

She opened and closed her mouth at least three times, trying to find a way to mention the thick zipper cutting through the top of his head. All she could say, though, was, “Um...your head…”

 

He gasped, his hands flying to the zipper. “Oh, no. Is my fly down?” He pulled the zipper shut, like it was the most normal thing, and blushed. “I’m sorry. That’s embarrassing. I mean, there’s nothing in there to see, but  _ still _ .”

 

Sara frowned. “What do you mean ‘nothing’? I mean, you have a brain in there, don’t you?”

 

The guy shook his head. “Unfortunately, an evil witch had her scientist pull my brains out.”

 

“Why?”

 

“She wanted something I know. Knew. Used to know.” He sighed deeply. “Anyway, I’m Barry.” He held out a hand to Sara. She shook it with a small laugh. 

 

“Sara Lance. I gotta say--you seem to be taking your state of brainlessness pretty darn well there, Barry.”

 

He shrugged. “Why worry? Nothing I can do about it now.”

 

And here Sara was, thinking this place couldn’t get any weirder. 

Barry tilted his head and gave her a once over. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

 

Sara shook her head. “No, I’m from Kansas. What is this place?”

 

“You’re in Star,” Barry answered, a dreamy expression falling over his face. “And, once, it was like heaven. Then, the Siren came and destroyed everything beautiful and wholesome about it in her mad seize for power.”

 

“Siren?” Sara asked. “Those little people mentioned her. She’s the one raiding the villages...and stole your brain?”

 

Barry nodded, and Sara’s mind wandered to what this witch could be like. Was she like Margaret Hamilton’s Wicked Witch--green and old and warty? Or like Charmed? Somehow, she didn’t think that Alyssa Milano would exactly strike fear into the heart of an entire nation. 

 

There was a shout from the village. “Longcoats!” Sara turned to see a rally of soldiers, led by a woman with white hair and a dark-haired man. 

 

“We gotta get out of here.” She went for the door of the cage. It was tied shut, with the thought that they were so high up, no one would dare escape. But these Munchkins didn’t know Sara Lance, and, on top of being top of her martial arts class, she was also a gold medal-winning gymnast. 

 

There wasn’t much to do in Kansas that didn’t involve joining clubs in school.

 

She ripped the twine free, leaving the door to swing open. “Sara, what are you doing?”

 

She backed up as far as she could and took a running leap at the platform. It was like riding a bike--Sara stuck the landing, hands in the air and a proud smile on her face. She turned back to the cage.

 

“Your turn.”

 

Barry shook his head. “Oh, no. I can’t do that.”

 

“You don’t have to. Just run and jump, and I’ll catch you.”

 

Barry frowned. “I may not have a brain, but I’m almost positive physics don’t work that way.”

 

Sara rolled her eyes. “Just take a running start and trust me.”

 

Barry seemed unsure but backed up like Sara had. Squeezing his eyes shut, he ran and jumped. Sara positioned herself at the edge of the walkway, her hand outstretched. She would never admit to Barry how close it came, but she caught his hand in hers, her grip on the railing keeping them both from falling to the ground. 

 

Barry opened his eyes. “You caught me.”

 

Sara nodded. “Yeah, now help me get you up here so we can get away.”

 

It took some pulling and finagling, but soon, the two were on the platform and running for the led to the ground, just as the Longcoats started raiding the village.


	3. The Tin Man

 

Sara and Barry only slowed their running when the treetop village was far behind them. Then, she let him take the lead.

 

“You’re sure you know where Central City is, right?”

 

Barry snorted. “Of course. It’s...the city in the center of the country. The shining city on the hill. We can’t miss it.”

 

Sara nodded, not sure if she believed him, but he was the best lead she had. “What were you like, before your brain was stolen?”

 

He paused. “I...don’t really remember. I vaguely remember living in a castle, and my parents...they were the advisors.”

 

“To the Siren?” Sara asked.

 

Barry frowned, his brow wrinkling with distress. “No...someone else, years before that. I...damn it! I can’t remember!” He banged his fist on his forehead, and Sara grabbed him by the wrist.

 

“It’s okay, Barry. It isn’t your fault.”

 

“There’s something important…” he whispered. “And it’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t…”

 

A pained cry cut him off. Sara turned--it sounded like it was coming from the other side of a nearby ridge.

 

“Help!” A child’s voice screamed. “Help us!”

 

Sara ran for the sound, not even bothering to see if Barry was behind her. When she came to the ridge, she skidded to a stop, horrified at what lied at the bottom.

 

There was a house, more like a cottage. A dark-skinned man was in the front yard, being held down by two Longcoats while another beat him mercilessly. A young woman was being held back by the dark-haired man from before, while the white-haired woman paced around between them. Another Longcoat came from inside the cottage, dragging a little boy, no older than four, behind him.

 

“Leave him alone!” the young woman screamed. “Leave my family alone, Frost! They had nothing to do with any of this!”

 

“Oh, dear little West,” Frost replied, pouting her blue lips, “of course they do. _You_ pulled them into this.”

 

Sara moved to run down and help, but an arm grabbed her waist to stop her. “If you go down now,” Barry warned from beside her, “the only thing that will change is that the Longcoats will kill you, too.”

 

“I don’t care,” she snarled, breaking free. There was a child involved, an innocent child. She knew Barry was trying to protect her, but she couldn’t just stand by. She ran down the hill with a yell.

 

“Leave them alone!” she howled. None of the soldiers turned to her, no one stopped in surprise. She ran right for Frost...and was met with nothing. The image of the family being tortured, of the Longcoats, the nice cottage, all of it faded away.

 

The cottage was now old and in shambles. The trees and grass were overgrown. There was no one around, nothing except a metal, man-shaped box at the edge of the property.

 

Sara turned to Barry, who was running up behind her. “What just happened?”

 

A whirring caught both of their attention, and Barry followed it to a mechanical device sitting on the railing of the porch.

 

He sighed solemnly. “It’s a T.D.E.S.P.H.T.L-- a Tri-Dimensional Energy-Stored Projected Holographic Time Loop.” He perked up for a second. “I think I invented it.”

 

“That whole thing was just a projection then?” Sara asked. “A fake?”

 

“No.” Barry shook his head. “It happened. Just...a long time before we got here. There’s nothing either of us could have done.”

 

Sara’s heart broke. So, that little boy and that family needed help, and no one came to their rescue? “So...why would someone play this? Like, as a memorial or something?”

 

“I doubt it,” Barry scoffed. “This was probably put here by the Longcoats as a message.”

 

“Why here, where there was no one to watch it?”

 

They shared a look, before turning to the man-shaped box. There was a small window where the face would’ve been. “You don’t think…”

 

They stepped slowly over to the box, Sara rising slowly on her tiptoes to peek inside. The glass was too dark to see inside, so she knocked three times on the outside. There was nothing for a few seconds. Then…

 

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

 

She jumped. “There’s someone inside.” She searched around for something, _anything_ , that could help her. Beside her, Barry bent down and picked up a rock.

 

“Try this!”

 

Her eyes scanned the suit for some weakness.

 

 _There!_ She found the hinges on the suit and started beating at the bolts until, one by one, they feel free. The front of the suit swung open, and Barry dragged Sara backward. They didn’t know what was in that suit. They didn’t know what kind of person had to be imprisoned like this.

 

Sara’s eyes widened. Inside was the woman from the projection. She was dirty, her eyes wide and wild, but she was alive. Then, the stench hit them, and Sara and Barry started to gag.

 

She must have been locked inside for a very long time. The woman took one, foal-like step forward before her knees gave out from under her. Sara rushed in just in time to catch her before her face hit the ground.

 

The young woman gasped, sucking in air like it was her first fresh breath in years. She looked to Sara, her straggly hair hanging in her face and a desperate gleam in her eye. “Where are they?” she asked, her voice low and raspy. “Where’s my family?”

 

Sara’s heart broke. She had no answers for this woman, no words of comfort. What had happened to her family, who so long ago had been attacked? How long had it been?

 

The woman’s eyes rose to the projection device. Carefully, she pried herself out of Sara’s arms and stumbled over to it. For a second, she just stared, like she was reliving the whole incident yet again. Then, she just turned away.

 

“I’ll kill that woman,” she whispered. “I’m going to kill Frost.”

 

\----------

 

Sara and Barry gave Iris--because that was the woman’s name, Iris West of the Free People--some space for an hour or so. She took a dip in a nearby lake to clean off, found some clothes left behind in the house that hadn’t been eaten up by time--along with a faded stetson that Sara was positive belonged to the older man in the projection, but said nothing--and when she stepped back out again to meet them, she was every bit the proud woman from the projection.

 

Her hair was pinned up immaculately, her shirt buttoned and tucked, even the dirt under her nails was gone.

 

Sara whistled low. “You clean up well, Ms. West.”

 

Iris gave her a small smile. “Thank you, for releasing me.” She walked down from the porch and round to the other side of the house. Sara and Barry followed, stopping at a respectful distance.

 

“So, they made her watch her family get tortured over and over again for years?” she asked.

 

Barry nodded. “That’s what happens to people who resist the Siren. Frost and Deathstorm, the two in the projection, are her most creative torturers. She must have really pissed the witch off.”

 

“How long do you think she’s been in there?”

 

“I planted that tree behind you the year before Frost came,” Iris shouted back at them. She was on her knees, pulling something out from under the foundation. “Looks like probably about ten years. Good thing those damn devices keep their prisoners in stasis.”

 

She didn’t sound too happy about it. “My name is Sara,” she said, stepping closer, “and this is…”

 

“A head case, right?” Iris asked, not even looking up at them.

 

“Barry,” Sara corrected. “His name’s Barry, and what’s a head case?”

 

“A criminal who has their brain removed. It was a barbaric practice, but it kept some of the more dangerous criminals from becoming dangers to those around them.”

 

Barry frowned and tilted his head. “I don’t think I was a criminal. Was I?”

 

Iris shrugged and pulled out a metal box from under the house. She threw it open. Inside was a gun holster, a toy car, and a star-shaped badge. Iris sat back on her heels, looking over the contents with a sigh, before pulling out the holster and draping it across her body. She brought the badge and car to her lips and kissed both, fresh tears gathering in her eyes, before tucking both away--the badge in her pants pocket, the car in her breast pocket, right over her heart.

 

“Who were they?” Sara found herself asking. Iris quickly sniffled and wiped the tears away.

 

“My father and my brother.” She pushed herself to her feet and plopped her hat on her head. “Thanks again for your help. I’ll see you both down the road.”

 

She turned to leave, but Sara rushed forward. “Wait! We’re actually looking for a road--the old brick road? It’s supposed to lead us to Central City.”

 

Iris nodded. “That’s where Siren’s troops frequent. It’s where...it’s where I’m going.”

 

“Great.” Sara grinned. “We’ll go with you.”

 

But Iris just grimaced and shook her head. “No offense, but I move faster on my own. Plus, neither of you exactly look like fighters. It’s a rough world in Star nowadays. I can’t spend all my time watching your asses, my ass, and worrying about you running at the first sign of trouble.”

 

Sara scoffed. The nerve… “Look, ‘no offense’,” she air-quoted, “but we just saved your ass from a tin box. Those people that attacked your family attacked mine, too. I’m _going_ to find them, but it’ll be a hell of a lot easier with your help since Smiley here doesn’t have a brain and can’t remember where anything is anymore.”

 

“Hey!” Barry exclaimed.

 

“You don’t know us. You can’t just judge us. And, by the way, I’m almost positive I could whip your ass right here, so remember that.” She grabbed Barry by the hand. “Come on, Bare. We’ll find our own way.”

 

She dragged him past Iris, her fury leading her more than her own good sense. She didn’t even know if she was going in the right direction.

 

“You do realize,” Iris called after them, “the way to Central leads through the field of the Pa-Pay?”

 

Barry froze in place, yanking Sara to a stop. When she turned, he was pale and his eyes were bulging in fear.

 

“The Pa-Pay?”

 

Sara sighed. She’d been through a storm, thrown into a cage by Oompa Loompas, chased by Longcoats...how bad could a ‘pa-pay’ be? “So? What’s the big deal? We can handle it.”

 

“Pa-Pays can chew a person in half in less than thirty seconds,” Iris said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve seen them do it. And that’s if you’re lucky and they don’t decide to hoard you for later.”

 

Sara’s eyes widened. What kind of hell hole was this place?

 

Iris looked between them, her lips pursed and brow furrowed. Finally, she rolled her eyes. “Fine. Both of you stay behind me. I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are.”

 

She strode past them, leading the way towards the old brick road. Sara frowned. “Why the change of heart?”

 

Iris sighed. “My heart died with my family. It’s got nothing to do with this.”

 

With that, she fell into silence and led the way to Central City.

 

\----------

 

Frost brought the witch a most welcome gift--a sketch that the girl from the Other Side had brought with her. She’d probably even made it. Deathstorm bragged about how they tortured the creature who had it before taking it away, but she tuned him out.

 

There was no time for Frost and Deathstorm’s twisted games. Right now, she needed to focus on the picture.

 

She carried it to the lab, where Breacher was already hooked to her machine. She forced the drawing into his hands.

 

“She searches…” he whispered, “through the East.”

 

“For what?”

 

Breacher frowned. “Love. She’s lost the ones she loves…”

 

An image appeared in the water. A balding man on the roof of a house--the same man from the sketch, the same house from Breacher’s last vision--but there was a young blonde girl in his arms. The storm was at the edge of the roof, and the man was urging the blonde to jump in.

 

_“You have to go, Sara! It’s time!”_

 

Siren stiffened. “Sara. Her name is ‘Sara’.” She clenched her fists. “Get a shovel, Frost.”

 

She led the Longcoats through the dark night, towards the old cemetery, the one that should’ve held her greatest enemy. Frost and Deathstorm stood at her side as the foot soldiers dug up one of the graves and dragged the stone casket out of the ground. The child-sized casket.

 

She didn’t wait for the Longcoats to open it. She screamed, and the lid was thrown off, revealing her worst nightmare.

 

The coffin was empty.

 

Sara, her greatest threat, was still alive.

 

_She’d been lied to._

 


End file.
